Can demons be angels?

There's a moment in the WW2 section of Lèonidés where Lèon helps a group of 4 dozen Polish officers and soldiers escape. He does it by grabbing and speaking with a young Captain, who understands English. Tells him his crew is about to attack, and that there is a trail which passes by the fortress he and his crew are inhabiting, at the moment, that will lead them to an encampment of Polish resistors. His one admonition is no one of them is to enter the fortress. No matter what.

Then Lèon and his lads take 10 of the Russians captive, after killing the rest, and carry them up to the fortress. Inside, the prisoners are bound as they curse and howl in fear and anger. The Polish Captain is passing the fortress when he hears them, hesitates and is about to bring some of his fellow officers inside to investigate. Leon realizes and appears behind him, in full view of the other officers. In English, he warns the man not to.

The man's a serious Catholic and asks if Lèon's a demon. But being cagey, his answer is, "What's the opposite of a demon?" Then, when the Captain believes he's an angel from heaven, Lèon uses God to send him on. Enjoying how he never bothered to mention he's actually a Blood Angel. Hardly one of the heavenly hosts.

I have a feeling this young officer is going to reappear, later. That's the hint it seems to be giving me, though in what capacity, I don't know. The next section takes place more than 65 years later, in New Orleans. Maybe I'll make him an Archbishop or even the pope. Who knows?

It's grown even darker, this section. A lot darker. But it fits the times and the narrative. Lèon and his pack are ravening beasts, albeit within more acceptable parameters. I think the New Orleans section will be told from Gabrielle's perspective, possibly through him. But she puts no limitations on her court when it comes to feeding. She revels in the terror and pain of innocents...like any good vampire.

But some of that could change...

Can you mitigate darkness?

What I wrote for Léonidès, today, really counts as mass murder by him and his crew. Granted, it's in the middle of a war, which by definition is legalized slaughter, and he targets Russian soldiers who have brutalized the local population. He also helps a group of Polish officers escape with the understanding they get to the UK and regroup to fight from there.

But then he and his seven associates take a group of Russian soldiers prisoner, keep some to take back to their chalet in Lugano, then rape and feed on the rest. One at a time. Done in a way that increases the terror of the men about to die. It's unsettling to me...yet is mitigated somewhat by the fact that they've also helped people. Am I being wishy-washy here?

I went back over what I posted, yesterday, and found some inconsistencies to correct, which flowed into what happens next...which is, basically, more bodies in the pool. With winter closing in, those bodies probably won't be found till the spring thaw, if then, and no one will even think to check to see if they still have blood in them. So Léon and his crew are safe. Not sure where this section is going, but I'm not pulling back on the reins, just yet.

This may help me with an issue I've been having in A Place of Safety. I'm torn between having none of Brendan's immediate friends die, in book 1, and having one killed by a British soldier, by accident. It seems too easy and on-point for that to happen, which is why I've been resisting it. But I'm starting to see that the best way to illuminate brutality is to have it happen. 

Wee Eammon, a kid who's sickly and has a panicky mother, has developed asthma and has an inhaler. If he's trying to get home in the middle of the daily riot, in Derry, has an attack and pulls out his inhaler...a soldier could freak, think it's a gun and fire. Problem is, if I do put it in, where would that be? After Bloody Sunday, when things spiral out of control? Before? Or should I wait till Brendan's in Houston? Point of placement is just as important as the act.

So still a lot to consider...but I'm now leaning towards doing it.

Shifting to WW2 in Poland

November 1939, taking up where 1871 left off.

---------

The battle was done. Stalin's forces had routed the Poles, and thousands of soldiers and officers were in the process of being carted off, probably to slaughter. Geoffrey was rather smug about having predicted it...but also irritated at the waste. 

"Something I do not miss about being human," he said, a vicious smirk on his face, "is the willingness to slaughter each other for no good reason. Destroy entire civilizations just to prove who's got a bigger dick, and Russians are the worst, for they mix arrogance in with their cruelty." Then he cast me a wary look. "I hope you do not mind my saying this." 

He knew how fond I still was of Dmitriy and wanted to remain on my good side, for he was growing hungry and I had yet to give any of my crew the right to feed, yet. Naturally, the last thing a vampire wants is to be deprived of his meal. 

So I let him know, "Dmitriy is no longer Russian. Lenin was bad enough, after the Tsar, but he refuses to be of the same race of people as Stalin." 

"Can you blame him?" 

"No. Gabrielle claims he's a fool. That he lowers himself to the same level as a human butcher with that attitude, but I see his point. And in truth, he had long ago cast aside his Cossack identity." 

"I didn't know the Russians were a race." 

"They think they are, just like the Germans think of themselves. When those two collide, every vampire in the world will feast well, for years." 

We were on the parapet of an ancient fortress in Poland, atop a hill, watching a final group of the officers under guard, far below, in preparation to be marched to the Russian frontier. Its walls were old and crumbling, thanks to the incessant shelling that had taken place around it, but this would serve as a good base for the needs of my group as we gathered our version of livestock for later use. 

I had refused to let us feed, just yet. I wanted to make sure we could distinguish between the very brutal victors and the vanquished, seeing as how both sides' uniforms were so dirty they appeared closely aligned. There was also the issue of good communication on the German side; taking one of their men might be noticed, while the Russians seemed far more backwards in both equipment and capability. I was close to limiting our hunt to them, tonight. 

Of course, despite all their vaunted treaties and claims and promises, neither England nor France had done the minimum necessary to honor them. Though to be honest, neither was really prepared to actually help Poland ward off the sudden, sharp attack from both Germany and Russia. Which was ridiculous. After years of marching to war, and after Czechoslovakia and Austria, them claiming shock at what happened could only be seen as laughable or self-delusion. 

Now Germany could focus on conquering them as Russia set her eyes on Finland. I was happy at neither possibility, for that put the range of our hunting too close to Lugano to be comfortable. And Mussolini was hauling Italy into the morass, as well, so there was that. Nothing wrong with Italian food, but when it's just around the corner you have to be careful about how often you dine. 

Fortunately, Nellis had noticed a strong sense of cold in the air, suggesting this would be a vicious winter, so the weather might be on our side. Soldiers fighting in the cold and muck are far easier to take, and their vanishing more readily explained. We'll probably find him once the snow is gone. Identification taken. Buried without a thought. No question as to manner of death. The one truly conflicting thing about war was how no one really gave a damn about the soldier.

I shifted to another side of the parapet to watch the group far below build a fire...for the Russian guards; not the Polish captives. I smiled. The casual brutality of both Russia's forces and Germany's fit my requirement too perfectly. 

Then Geoff asked in a halting voice, "Leon, may I ask...?" But he trailed off into wary silence. 

I looked at him, waiting. 

He took in a deep breath and finally continued, "Why does Gabrielle not release Dmitriy to you? We could use him to translate what they are saying. Make preparations around their plans." 

I chuckled. "And understand their curses against us?" I asked. This would not be our first hunt amongst those who considered themselves Cossacks of the finest order.

Geoff was the only one of my crew with knowledge of how my negotiations with her had gone. That my agreement with her had been Franz for Dmitriy, which would have satisfied us all since Franz enjoyed being in her bed and Dmitriy would have been more than happy in mine. That she had reneged on the deal was only a surprise to him. 

He also knew she was now based in a chalet north of Stockholm, so her feeding grounds would be Germanic, which Franz could help her with, while Dmitriy would be of no value. But she was also a Blood Angel, and with a capricious nature from long before she was turned, coupled with a streak of cruelty I had seen even as a boy ten years her junior. But Geoff did not know of that. He only saw an arrangement that made no sense, in any way, shape or form. 

"Spite," I finally answered him. "Not merely against me, but also Dmitriy for not becoming her mate. She enjoys watching Franz toy with him, now that the little bastard's completely in her bed." 

Geoff jolted. "You know this?" 

I nodded. "It's her way to remind me she has him and I don't. I never did, really. Franz would lie with me only because I could hurt him if he did not. Now he has Gabrielle as his bed partner. And she will not allow Dmitry access to him. Which suits Franz; he never did appreciate the attentions of men." 

"Men?" Geoff's wicked smirk was back. Only he was allowed to cut into my petty little lies to myself. 

"All right, me," I snapped. "I thought he had at least become amenable to both sexes. How wrong I was." 

"I wonder." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well...I've been in contact with a couple of Gabrielle's retinue," he said, very carefully. He knew I would keep this between us, alone, but to have him gossiping about my sister and her choice of companion was dangerous territory. "Apparently, he does enjoy feeding on men who look like you. Not consistently, since you are of rare beauty..." 

Spoken without a hint of mockery. 

I still chuckled and said, "Oh, stop." 

He continued with, "But often enough to be noticeable. He's been seen stalking them and...well...while feeding...assaulting them." 

I said nothing. Geoff's ability to gather information never ceased to amaze me, especially since was correct. Dmitriy had told me know in one of his notes. He would send them by pigeon, probably set to fly at dawn, after her court had slipped into slumber. 

She disdains me for my attraction to men, he had written, as if my nature is my fault. Lets that bastard Prussian parade around me in nothing but a towel loose about his hips. Says nothing about him raping men with your appearance. She cares only that he joins her bed and no other female's. But what is most galling is, even when he does test her with other women, she allows it. Are you certain you do not want him back? 

I could imagine Dmitriy's frustration. Franz was remarkably beautiful, in body and face. But I had mistaken his tenderness with his horse for decency in his soul. Never would I make that mistake, again. 

I sighed and looked down the hillside. Trees covered the land but there were areas where they were cut away. Blown away, by artillery. Burned away by the ensuing fires. Fortunately, it had rained heavily, the day before and through the night, so all fires were extinguished. Unfortunately, now trails of thick mud cut through the ground and a pond to my right had filled to overflowing with dark, dirty water. 

Made darker and dirtier by a dozen bodies floating in it, face-down. All Russian. All naked. All male. Only a couple of them there the night before. Their pale, bloated skin hid the fact there was no longer any blood in their veins. 

Many of them were younger. Were healthy and excited about being at war and intent on enjoying all of life's pleasures all at once. For who knew what tomorrow might bring? 

Which brought a smirk to my face. None of them had thought tomorrow would never appear, for they were invincible. But my crew had proven them wrong. 

Completely wrong.  

Pressing ahead

The best way to get around a situation you don't like in your writing is to do something else in it. So...I started work on a section of Léonidès that takes place at the beginning of World War II. Wound up setting it in Poland and the Russians are the bad guys who wind up being fed upon by Léon and his crew. I remembered about the Katyn massacre committed by Russia, in 1940. By some estimates, they killed and buried nearly 22,000 Polish officers and educators, then denied it until after the Soviet Union dissolved. All in the face of irrefutable evidence.

Russia has a history of doing this to other countries. Ukraine went through the Holodomor famine, which killed up to 5,000,000 people and was deliberately brought about by Stalin. It included Georgia and Kazakhstan.

Adding in their willingness to bomb hospitals and apartment buildings not just in Ukraine but Chechnya and Syria and Georgia, just this century, they make the perfect bad guys for Léon and his crew to feed upon. This image is of Konstantyn Kaminyin, a Russian model. I was using him as the idea for Franz, but this works better.

Thinking about it, there were other occasions where food was used as a political tool -- like the Irish Potato Famine of 1845-49. There actually was no famine; food was still being exported from the country. But London did little to counter the growing catastrophe, figuring it was a good way to weaken the Irish and disperse them, since they were breeding so fast. And it worked. 1,000,000 died and another million fled the country.

Of course, a lot of my attitude, right now, is colored by Russia's current terrorism in Ukraine...and the West's minimal response to it. Slow-walking arms and sanctions, just like in the late 30s, as Hitler kept marching on. Germany actually asked the US not to declare Russia a terrorist state because it would disrupt the gas supplies to them. Money above morality, in the world. Always has been that way.

Léonidès is becoming a political work as well as a criticism of humanity. A high-level vampire is proving to be more morally inclined than just about any human being he meets. Now this is keeping in mind Léon's sister, Gabrielle, is more typical a Blood Angel, doing as she damn well pleases, like she's royalty, so I can see where the story is leading, now. I think. A direct confrontation between her and him over who will rule the new federation of vampires. Or something like that; I don't know, yet.

I don't know if I like this...

It's 1871 and Leonides is in Hong Kong, en route back to France with a captive, Ian (who used to be named Clerik). But things go awry and Ian is kidnapped. Leon's tracking him:

--------

I caught his scent near the municipal building...and the scent of vampires, next to him. That raised both anger and panic in me. My mark was on him, that of a Blood Angel, and if they had any sort of awareness they would know not to feed on him. 

I followed it up to Queen's Road, into an area of tumbling little shacks trailing smoke into the sky past thick foliage. In the middle of it all was a finer house, two-levels, surrounded by masonry walls topped with tiles, overgrown garden showing it was much abandoned. I stormed up the steps and through the doors to find... 

An empty foyer. Cleared of furniture but not filth. Walls moldy and dark. Rats scurrying about. 

And grunts of pain from Ian. 

I was up the stairs in a flash, and there I found him. strung up to the ceiling by a thick rope by his wrists, his legs spread apart and bound to a pole, his underwear torn half off one hip to reveal him. And around him were three young men, all naked. None pretty but not ugly. Just plain. Thick. Stupid. Almost boyish. Ian was an elegant bear in comparison to them. 

And all three were slaved, not vampires.

Then I saw him, sitting off to one side his monk's robe now a cloak opened wide to reveal his taut, naked body and erection. 

Prior Pious. 

And the triumphant expression on his face confirmed my suspicion -- he had taken Ian to draw me to him. 

"Leon, I di' no' leave..." was all Ian could say before one of the slaves whipped a gag around his mouth and bound it tight. Perhaps he thought I'd be stupid enough to jump over to stop him, since one of the others was groping Ian in very invasive ways while the other was close by with a broken lance pointed at me. 

A broken lance of wood, sharp and deadly.

Pious was only smiling. "Leonides," he said, speaking in our old Norman dialect. "I had heard you were coming this way, and hoped you would return." 

I barely paid him any attention. Ian was not the least bit wet. No scent of the harbor's water on him. He was telling me the truth. He had not tried to escape me. He had been taken from the Angelique, as bait. Probably by these three little worms. They would have needed no approval to unlock my door to enter my chambers. Nor to remove the chain from Ian's leg. Nor to bring him out so Pious could ferry him here. 

"Where is the guard on my ship?" I asked. 

"In the harbor," said Pious. "He was quite tasty." 

I cannot begin to tell you how angry that made me. This was a violation of protocol, of my standing, and Pious would have known that, yet he did it, anyway. The son of a bitch...

Ian tried to speak but I silenced him with a wave of my hand. 

My voice grow cold as I said, also in our Norman dialect, "This is a very big mistake on your part, Pious." 

"Is it?" He rose and wandered over to Ian, his robe almost trailing behind him, his erection leading the way. Whatever fondness I'd once had for his physical appearance, he now struck me as vile and depraved. "You know, for years," he continued, "or decades...no, centuries I have been trying to find a way to get your attention..." 

"And you do it by taking what is mine?" 

"But he's not yours." He caressed Ian's chest, toying with his nipples as he said, "He is pretty. A bit more swarthy than I prefer, and he has what counts." He slipped his hand down to grab Ian's genitals, making him squirm in horror. It was all I could do to keep from jumping Pious and tearing him apart. "But he's not yours," he said. "Not yet. He's not slaved, nor has he been turned, so he's still fair game." 

"Protocol says otherwise." 

"Protocol is the reason I'm here," he snapped at me. 

"What do you want?" I snapped back. 

"You know, the First Ones were willing to tolerate my preferences, so long as I kept it confined to the monastery, with my monks to play with and serfs to feed upon. But you took that away from me." 

"You did that, yourself, when you turned me. In direct violation of..." 

"I did not mean for you to be turned!" 

"It doesn't matter. I was, thanks to your actions. Accept responsibility for yourself." 

"But it's not fair." 

"Oh, now you sound petulant, like a child." 

"I'm weary! I want back in our world." 

"Talk to The First Ones." 

"I've tried. They won't listen. But they might listen to you." 

I actually laughed. "You threaten my property and then ask me to help you?" 

"As I said, I just wanted to get your attention." He slipped behind Ian, letting his hands curl around to his front. His nails grew and his fangs lengthened. The terror in Ian's face was infuriating...and wildly erotic. Then Pious stupidly continued with, "And now I have it. You know, if I turn him, he becomes mine." 

"Don't you even try." 

"You cannot stop me. Protocol forbids we kill each other, and you may not harm those I have slaved." 

"You have broken protocol." 

"But I am weak; you are not." 

"Don't be so sure of yourself, Pious." 

He chuckled and started to bite into Ian's neck, but I slammed between the two of them, kicking Pious to my left while pulling Ian to my right. The lad with the spear jabbed it at me but I slapped him, sending him across the room. The other two tried to jump me but in a flash I was on the ceiling, holding Ian and glaring down at them all in full vampire mode. 

And then I saw the blood on Ian's neck.

Pious had cut him, with his teeth. 

As had been done to me.

He would turn, now. There was no other path. And he was not a Blood Angel, so he would belong to that bastard, not to me. 

I lost all control. In fury, I sank my own teeth into Ian's neck and drank from him...drained him before he could turn. Heard him screaming and felt him fighting me but I did not stop. Just drank and drank as he grew more and more still...then finally limp in my arms.

I had killed him. 

I killed him. 

Deep within I knew it had been necessary. He would have been Pious' and he was not enough removed from his nature to trust he would not become a feral feeding beast. But it was kill him or unleash him on the world...and that I could not bear.

But still, the insane anger that exploded through me...screaming pain and a near madness...it would have been felt by any vampire within a hundred miles. And in fact, several appeared within moments to put themselves between me and Pious. It was only they who kept be from sending myself into banishment from the community, for I was ready to slaughter not only that bastard but his slaves, protocol be damned.

Eogard was with them, and his hands were upon me as he growled, "Let go, sir. Let go."

I fought it and fought it but the fury boiled within...until...

Amongst the group I sensed another Blood Angel.

An Elder One.

Female.

She replaced Eogard in my sight, her clothing a brilliant combination of silk and gauge in a thousand colors. Tall. Strong. Beautiful in the extreme. Egyptian. 

She stopped me with a single hand to my chest, whispering, "Leonides, he is not yours to do with." 

I sensed her name was Nethys, and the strength in her was greater than my own. Far, far greater. As were the peace and control. They drifted into me.

I finally grew aware enough to realize I was still holding Ian's lovely body. Cradled like a lover. Pale in death. Lips slightly parted. Eyes half-closed. My wound to his throat bold and vicious and cursing me with what I had done. 

"Take no blame for yourself," she said. "This was brought about by another." 

I looked at her, knowing but not understanding.

"Stay strong, Leonides. Not only for your sake, but others who depend on you. Leave Pious to us." 

Somehow I managed to say, "But I want him dead...and vampire may not kill vampire." 

"This is true," she replied with a gentle smile. "But we know those who can. Take your friend. Know you protected him as best you could. Did right by him. Bury him." 

"Here?" In this hideous land of corruption and filth? My beautiful Ian lying here, for eternity? 

"Make ashes of his body. Spread them in the fields. Watch this world grow beautiful around him." 

"Come along, sir." It was Eogard talking. He put a hand on my back. 

I still held Ian's body, and did not want to move for fear I would not wake to find it all a dream. Yet I let him lead me to the stairs and down into the night

Ian was cremated. His ashes put into a beautiful urn of white porcelain and gold, and we sailed for home. Then I did as Nethys suggested, whispering a gentle layer of them over Nellis' hectare of iris. And when they bloomed, that summer, I watched butterflies and bees and birds dance amongst them. 

And never once did I weep.

Written out...

So far, I have 23,000 words done on this section of Leonides, and went so late, tonight, Im dead of brain. Didn't help I took a spill on some nice cracked and uneven sidewalk and busted my lip. If I didn't have good bones, I'd be seeking a straw to drink my dinner from, the next few weeks.

But it's doing all right, and I'm finding it jolted a few things out of my head...and Leon's doing his thing of falling for a guy he probably shouldn't. Clerik is now Ian and Leon has him on a long voyage from Korea to Marseilles by way of Hong Kong, Goa, and a few other stops, and things are proceeding as one would expect.

But I'm achy and getting to be whiny and don't want that, so I'll discuss the story more, tomorrow.

Drive time good...

It seems I'm best able to let my mind wander and dig up aspects of my stories when I'm driving, and the drive down to Washington DC was LOOOOONG...but helped work out some kinks in the story. Same for the drive back, though not as tedious. I'm now tired as shit and my back is killing me, but my brain is abuzz.

I went down by way of Pittsburgh and never will again, it was such a mess. Coming back, I dealt with Google Map's nonsensical connection from the 15 North to the 15 North (going through the middle of town instead of staying on the West side of the River?!?!?) for one reason -- it takes me by the Susquehanna River and that is a lovely drive. More overgrown than the last time I did it, a few years ago, but still spots to stop and just relax...like McKee's Half Falls Rest Area. Nice. Peaceful. Restrooms. Mostly ignored by passing cars and trucks.

Anyway, I've started working out what's going on with Lenoides and Gabrielle, and it's mainly a nasty case of sibling rivalry. He wasn't supposed to be turned into a Vampire because he has the Blood Angel strain in him, and he's gay. There are older BAs (The Olders) who sent out word he was to be left alone to live out his life as a human, and they are angry that he's been turned.

This set the stage for the rift between him and Gabrielle, and why he continues to feel like an outsider even in the Vampire world. But since vampires are forbidden from killing other vampires, nothing can be done about it...until he becomes so wealthy and powerful he's targeted for annihilation. Not out of fear but out of bigotry. Even Vampires can be homophobic.

I'm also working out how to explain the creation of The Olders...from using Greek, Roman or Egyptian mythology to set it up to a play on Lucifer being cast down from Heaven and have a ball on Earth, leaving behind a few of his progeny who develop into blood-suckers.

I need to dig more into the Egyptian for that, though. And...it might work better with Hindu. You never know.

Structure revealing itself

Leonides is beginning to make its structure known to me. It's going to be in seven parts:

1. The beginning, in the last quarter of the 11th Century, Leonides is turned and revealed to be a Blood Angel, just like his sister, Gabrielle. He takes a pack of six vampire monks from Prior Pious and makes them his retinue -- Geoffrey, Reyndahl, Deric, Stephane, Nellis and Loronce -- making a permanent enemy.

2.  Mid-16th or 17th Century, a huge rift explodes between Gabrielle and Leonides. Not sure what it is, just yet, or the exact timeframe...maybe the 30 years war in Germany or the Civil War in England...but all will be revealed. Leon turns a young man named Willem to join with him, as another vampire. The rest are wary, until Leon lets them have fun with the lad. This is where he formulates his set of rules -- go only after those committing evil acts, and if they want to have fun with them before killing them, that will be fine. But no one innocent; Gabrielle is too busy in that arena.

3. Beginning of the 19th Century, Napoleon is on his march to Moscow and Gabrielle turns Dmitriy into a Blood Angel, not believing Leon when he warns her the man is gay so cannot be with her. But he can be with Leon. Geoffrey is unhappy about that so turns one of Napoleon's soldiers, Meron, to be with him. It causes friction in the group because Leon has expressly forbidden that...but can't blame Geoff since he used to be the favorite.

4. 1870s, Leon turns Franz and comes to realize it was a mistake, so sets out to ask Gabrielle for help. Maybe she can control him like she did Dmitriy. He locates her in Korea, where she's chasing another Blood Angel to turn and be her mate. But her choice is killed before she can turn him so she double-crosses Leon, who then takes Clerik but doesn't turn him...yet. But Prior Pious shows up and tries to use the guy as a bargaining tool to his original monks back to his sphere.

5. 1940 and Europe has fallen to Germany.  Leon's financial holdings are in Switzerland but he has businesses all across the Continent and England, and is not only having them confiscated but is in danger of being caught and crushed by the Nazis and the British, as are the men in his retinue. Especially since a couple of them have joined the Resistance in both France and Germany. Gabrielle is war profiteering, and her retinue are having a field day feeding. Dmitriy is helping the Germans on the Polish front...by really messing with them to help the Russians.

6. New Orleans in 2006, after Katrina. Gabrielle is part of the reconstruction effort, as is Dmitriy. Leon is building a security service so is wary of coming to the city...until he senses a potential Blood Angel is there -- a troubled young Jazz musician named Tristan. Gabrielle connects with him, and this time verifies he would be the one for her so sets about separating him from his friends and leading him into her snare. Dmitriy grows jealous and tries to stop it because it means he will be abandoned...but winds up becoming the 12th member of Leon's group.

7. Modern Day. Leon has a finger in every business there is around the world, thanks to his centuries of wealth gathering and the various abilities of his retinue. Called by Gabrielle for help Tristan taken captive by Franz, in Brazil, and threatened with destruction. Franz can't kill him but has associates who can. Wants all of Gabrielle's wealth, in the billions. She needs Leon to use his security firm to locate and stop Franz because he still has reliable contacts in the human world. But how to do it? Vampire not allowed to kill vampire, and humans aren't strong enough.

Leaving Korea in unhappy ways

Here's some of what I wrote on the 3rd or 4th part of Leonides as he prepares to leave Korea for his home in Metz, France. It's a two-month journey by schooner, going through the Suez Canal, then probably another week through France, so he needs to get a move on. Gabrielle is already on her way there to take Franz away from him, but...he has a top-sail schooner which is a much faster ship.

------

Before he could think, I had Clerik bound spread eagle on the bed, face up, using chains I was sure had been intended for Gabrielle's American. I would have to send her a note of thanks, for I now considered them mine not hers. 

I stood at the foot of the bed and gazed upon him, and he reminded me of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man...if a bit soft around the belly. 

"Wha' ye' doin'? Wha' ye' gon' do wit' meh?" 

"I haven't decided, yet," I said as I played with his dick and balls. "Get some sleep; we'll talk in the morning." 

I don't honestly know if he fully understood me, but I found my ear was growing accustomed to his manner of speech, so maybe his was, mine, as well. 

I can say, with all truth, I did not really know what my plans were, for him. Not then. I had to return to Metz, which would take weeks of travel. While I could get away with a prisoner on my schooner, even in First Class, Clerik would have raised issues on the train. I'd have to travel by carriage. Private carriage. From Marseilles to Metz. But getting him through immigration... 

Unless I simply didn't bother...or forced him to agree that he was my manservant...but no, that was too dangerous. Better to drop him and myself at a spot outside Montpelier and arrange for a carriage to meet us... 

These thoughts were careening through my brain as I dressed then headed back to the bodies of his compatriots. They had been left to the ravens and insects. I took their guns, some nice Colt revolvers and bullets, before I burned their bodies. I'm sure they saw the fires from the ship, and may even have begun to miss their compatriots, but I saw no one as I buried them. Which took almost till dawn. I made certain to spread them out so they would better enrich the soil with their bones. 

When I returned, he was sleeping. I removed my clothing, cleaned it, and lay beside him just to let the fingers of my right hand mingle with his dick and balls. I wasn't tired, and it felt nice. Comfortable For me, at least. 

For him? I heard him murmur, "Don' kill meh, please." 

I wondered if the girl he had killed also begged for her life. 

Probably. 

It was then I decided to bring him home as a gift to my boys. Let them decide what to do with him. I trailed my fingers up through the hair on his belly to his chest. "If you play nice," I said, "I won't." 

I saw he was looking down at me, still afraid. "Ye wan' mor'...this?" 

"Yes. I'll take you back to my home. And the whole way you will be quiet. Tell no one, anything." 

"Won' tell enneh-one. Shameful." 

I grabbed his balls and dug my nails in. He cried out. "I tasted you," I snarled. "You enjoyed what I did to you. Not like the girl you killed." 

"Ye...ye angel...er dev'l?" 

"Both. Do we have a deal?" 

"Take meh soul?" 

"You no longer have that to give away." 

I could see him thinking, hard, his eyes looking around as he swallowed and little yelps of fear still leapt from within him. I continued to roll my fingers around his dick and balls, making him squirm...and used my free hand to toy with his elegant nipples. 

Finally, he nodded. "O-keh." 

Now don't you believe for two seconds I was dumb enough to think he meant it. He just wanted time enough to figure out how to escape me. And I actually thought it might be fun to let him get away a couple of times so I could go hunting. Hone my skills kind of thing. In fact, the more I considered that idea, the more it aroused something primal in me. 

So I rose to my knees and straddled his chest, my dick pointed at his face. Erect. "To seal the deal," I said, "take me in your mouth and lick on me like you would a woman's breast." 

He cast me a look of horror that was almost comical as he squeaked, "No!" 

I let my thumbnails extend then wrapped my hands around his neck to caress his throat with them, smiling. "It's that or I bugger you every night on this trip. And that will take months." 

"But eh ne'veh done it..." 

"I told you how. Like sucking on a woman's teat." 

I pressed the head of my dick to his lips. He grimaced and turned away...but he was thinking...and lost...and finally he shifted back and opened his mouth...and I slipped past his lips. 

I didn't let this go on for very long; he was already choking and close to vomiting, and I didn't want to have to clean him, again. Not yet. There would be time enough to train him properly. So I pulled out and let myself ejaculate onto his face and sat back to let him cough and spit and gasp in horror. He rolled his head away from me, as much as he could. He was close to tears. I chuckled and pinched his nipples, making his yelp in pain. He shook his head. 

Stupid man...if he thought this was bad... 

***** 

I quickly washed and dressed myself, then bound and gagged him and wrapped him in a sheet. I burned the Hanok and the overgrowth in the courtyard. Packed the guns and chains in a haversack. Leave nothing behind. Then I picked him up like you would a lady...and in moments we were back to the Angelique.

As lovely as it was having his body close to mine, his ass resting at my crotch, I wanted to waste no time returning to my chateau. 

Dawn was breaking so the crew just beginning to rouse and the night watch was facing the other direction when I slipped him into my quarters on the ship. I flipped him onto my berth in a way that removed the sheet from around him. He wound up on his back, cowering in a way to try and hide his genitals from me. As if I hadn't already seen and used them. It quite an adorable sight.

I pulled out the chains from the Hanok, so locked him to a corner of the bed. Not like the Vitruvian Man, this time; just hands over his head and feet caught together. Fully exposed. 

He was close to freaking out from the sudden change in location, so I sat beside him and said, "You know, I have drugs to make you sleep, so that time seems not to exist. And other little tricks to keep you unbalanced." Then I showed him a pair of Chinese fingernail rings, putting one on my thumb. 

That settled him enough to where he could ask, "Why ye do'n this t' meh?" 

"You raped and murdered a girl." 

"That Chin'nee? Bu' she's n'thin'." 

That made me grin, cold and probably very scary, as I said, "And now you're nothing." 

That made him cringe. 

I chuckled, wrapped my left hand around the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss. Long and deep. He didn't like it but did not fight me, as he had, before. Then when I was done, I whispered in his ear, "The next time I kiss you, you will kiss me. And if you say one word to my crew, during this voyage, I will tear out your tongue with these." 

Then I clicked the fingernail rings together, all but touching his nose with them. 

"Do you understand?" I continued, adding, "You may shake your head Yes or No." 

He gulped in some air and nodded. Of course. I was beginning to see despite his garbling of English he was not stupid. I patted him on his glorious chest, stood, removed my cloak and headed up to the main deck. 

Time to leave these God-forsaken waters.

Well...well...well...

Once, again, my characters are taking me in an interesting direction. As already noted, the part of the story I'm working on, right now, is set in Korea, and Leonides has killed three US Marines who raped then murdered a Korean girl, and has taken a fourth one, Clerik, to have fun with. It's even indicated that this is the one who did the actual killing.

Well, I worked up the prelude to this, yesterday, and the followup, today, putting this part of the story at close to 10,000 words. Leon's met with Gabrielle, who's in a bad mood. She was following another potential Blood Angel and planning to turn him but he died in a skirmish with Korean soldiers before she had a chance to. Leon has asked her for a favor, as brother to sister, and she uses his request to screw him over. So he's pissed off when he goes hunting for food and sport...and happens onto those Marines.

Leon does enjoy himself with Clerik, viciously. Binds him on a bed but doesn't gag him (he has plans for the man's mouth) only in the end doesn't kill him. The man is terrified...thinking God is punishing him...asking if Leon if he's a devil or an angel. Leon's reply? "I'm both." Then he decides to take the man, alive, to his chateau, in France. And use him the entire way. Not because he's beautiful but because he deserves it.

This part is set in 1871, so it will take a while. Leon's purchased a top sail Schooner for the trip back to France, via the Suez Canal, and throughout will have Clerik chained in his ship's cabin. Raped over and over. Begging to be released. Then once at the chateau, Leon lets his minions do with him as they wish, so long as they do not turn him into a vampire. So the killer finds out what hell on earth really is until Geoffrey, as lead vampire, finishes him off.

The interesting direction of this is that Clerik commits a heinous crime, tinged with more than a little xenophobia, and automatically expects to get away with it. Leon is the only reason he's being held accountable, which is what Leonides is all about. It's just...I've started feeling sorry for Clerik. He is, effectively, being tortured and terrorized before he's killed. And as someone who doesn't believe in capital punishment, it's affecting me, harshly.

But I cannot go against the characters, so it is what it is...and will be what it will be. Dammit.

Oh...my...God...

In the world of Who the Hell Thought This Was a Bright Idea...

People are actually arguing over what actor should play a Ken doll? In a movie? A Barbie and Ken movie? And the main complaint is Ryan Gosling is too old and has scruff.

IN A FUCKING BARBIE AND KEN MOVIE?!?!?!

Jesus Christ…are you kidding me? I honestly have no idea what to think or say, right now. I am in total shock.

If ever I needed proof we’re at the end of civilization and entering a new dark age, this is it.

3400 words, today

Still dealing with the 4th section of Leonides. He's not happy with his agreement with Gabrielle so goes seeking not only food but a diversion...and here he finds it.

-----

I found my dinner just as the sun was setting. Four American marines walking away from a trampled field about a mile from the ship's berth on the river. One was trying to tuck his dick away in his uniform trousers as the others laughed and jostled each other and shared a jug of what smelled like Takju...Korean rice wine.

A quick recon of the area showed the bodies of an older farmer and his daughter. He was face down but the red moist earth around his head told his throat had been cut. She was lying on her back, most of her clothing torn aside, her throat also slit. She had once been very pretty. Apparently, the Americans had agreed...and enjoyed themselves, with her...until perhaps ten minutes ago. Her blood had only just stopped flowing. They had left her lying in a manner that was depraved.

I circled back to look at the men, keeping above them. Two were well into their thirties, one very thin the other edging into obesity, maybe a dozen teeth between them. They were drinking most of the Takju. The lad tucking himself away was very young and very drunk, which was probably why he was having trouble. He had only a hint of a beard covering a wide, boyish face and would have been acceptable, if only he'd had more ass on him. Granted, those hulking uniforms were not conducive to revealing a man's general anatomy, but they didn't exactly hide it, either.

Fortunately, that is what helped me choose the fourth one as my diversion.

He strolled along, grinning ear to ear. His hat was hiding his face, but he was sturdy, not stocky, in a uniform that had probably been the right size for him when he joined the service and now was close to being a bit too tight. Also, his walk was casual and cool. Far too much so for a man who'd just helped murder two innocent people...but that stride helped reveal how nice the flow of his ass into his legs was. I checked his front. His jacket was open and the top three buttons of his shirt undone, showing his chest had an abundance of hair, was full and oh-so inviting. A bit more around the tummy than need be, but not too much. Minimal crotch filling, but my guess was he'd depleted himself in the dead girl.

Still...we'd see about that.

He had just fired up a second cigarette and, as he walked, was rolling another. Apparently, he did not like rice wine. This was good. I preferred unencumbered blood.

They were chattering in words that almost sounded English, but were so different from my ancient tongue I had difficulty understanding them. Considering how America was exploding in strength and purpose, it looked like I'd have to spend some time there to get an idea of the lingo. Boston or New York, perhaps. Large cities to shelter yourself in. But that was for later consideration.

I have to admit, the more I watched the fourth man walk and interact with his companions, the more I wanted to keep him for more than a single night. Then he took off his hat and wiped his brow, even though it was a cool evening, and I saw a strong face with dark eyes and a wide grin under an untrimmed beard.

Okay...first things first, the beard would have to go. I don't mind whiskers, but when they hide the impact of a man's neck and chin-line, they are a hinderance to appreciation...and can also interfere with the joy of feeding. Second, his hair was definitely in need of washing, but to my surprise, not trimming. Apparently they had a barber on board the ship to keep the lads neat.

Well...my course of action was now determined. I swooped in and snapped the necks of the two older men. Like my mother had once done with chickens who'd stopped laying. Quick and easy, killing both before they even knew they were dead.

The other two were so shocked, they just looked at me, eyes wide, then the one with no ass turned to run but I grabbed his jacket and yanked him back. He screamed, "Clerik!" and the fourth one pulled a knife and jumped at me. I could smell the recent blood on it.

So...he was the one who did the killing.

Good.

I merely took hold of his hand and twisted his arm around to his back in a way that forced him to his knees. Then yanked the no-ass bastard to me, wrapped my other arm around his head to hold it in place, released my fangs...and fed on him.

He kept screaming, for a moment, thrashing and fighting as his buddy...Clerik, struggled to free himself. I won't say the no-ass bastard was the worst meal I'd ever had, but he was barely decent. His blood was blood, and that's all.

When he was dead, I dropped him and turned to Clerik, who was now in full panic mode. Screaming for help.

I noticed some Korean peasants hurrying over to where the bodies of the old man and girl were. They cast a glance at me and saw Clerik struggling in my arms. They were really too far away and the light was too low for them to truly see me, but I still shook my head...and it seems they understood. They turned away and coldly focused on their countrymen.

Good.

Clerik kept fighting and twisting and trying to shift his knife to his other hand so he could face me, still howling in his odd version of English. I made out the words bastard and slaughter and die, but the rest almost sounded like Gaelic, which was more a Saxon way of speaking. Being Norman, I never truly learned it, and now that I've spent more time in France, Germany and Italy, I had lost even that smattering. I could handle the Queen's English, but that was not his.

I wrapped my free arm around his neck then removed the knife from his hand...without breaking a single bone! I was very pleased with my restraint. I ferried Clerik to the shore of that nearby river but well-away from his ship, all in the blink of an eye. To say he was panicking now would be an incredible understatement. I could easily make out the words devil and demon and God as he pled for assistance.

Another beast begs God to help him after committing the devil's work. It was almost pathetic.

I removed his jacket, in shreds, adding to his terror. The joy I felt as his body twisted and pressed and jerked against mine added to my need for him. To own him.

His trousers were held up by braces, so I tore them off their buttons then pulled us both into the water. The shock of it made him stop struggling. When I lifted him back onto shore, his trousers were around his hips, caught in place by his nice round ass, and his shirt clung to him in ways that describe erotica. His belly was soft but not as much so as I had thought. His chest was firm and inviting. His nipples only barely pressed against the material but were noticeable. I was glad I'd fed on the other one.

I shifted him to face me, held his arms behind him, at the wrists. Used my teeth to pull the shirt away from his left breast as he howled and cursed and cried to the heavens...then I dove in to lick and kiss and suck on his nipples, one after the other. The hair around them tickled my lips and nose...and did that build a fire in my heart.

Yes, I would not soon be done with this beautiful beast. Not at all.

Serendipity comes...

I think I know where the story is heading. All of it is like background leading up to Leonides building an empire of shipping, manufacturing, financial services and security...and maybe the start of a graphic novel. He and his minions, who will number twelve by this point, are renown for providing protection to anyone that needs it...if that person or group meets their standards.

For example, they would do nothing to keep Putin safe, for damned sure. Same for Orbán (of Hungary) Erdoğan (of Turkey), Bolsonaro (of Brazil), or the leaders of China, North Korea and a number of African states. They maintain a certain level of right and wrong in their dealings.

Looks like Leon's sister, Gabrielle, will need his company's help in saving her mate, Tristan (also a Blood Angel), from destruction by another vampire. Not sure what it's all about yet, or if it's even a trap. Maybe it's just a business deal going wrong. But it gives me something to lead towards.

I'm not making my good vampires sweet and cuddly, nor will they drink fake blood. When unleashed, they are as cruel and brutal as the worst of mankind. But like cats, they cover their doings. In fact, I may have one branch of Leon's business be fertilizer. Excellent cover for the dead and helps with the feeding of the world, with no critters popping up, by accident.

And it's definitely going to be totally male-centric, except for the section regarding Gabrielle in New Orleans; there'll be some MF in that. I'm at the point where Leon is going to take Franz, and I won't know how that will turn out until I write it. But even thought the lad is unconscious, he's already causing a rift between my BA and his main vamp, Geoffrey, who also wants Franz. After all, he saw him first and kept him alive during the battle at Mars-le-Tour.

Sometimes un-life is so unfair...

Fourth bit...

This is to the end of the first chapter of this part, which I'm now calling The Prussian. I'm up to 6800 words on it, and it's begun to flow together. Leonides and his crew are deciding to become a part of the modern world (as it was in 1871), which sets the stage for the next two or 3 parts. Oh, and the image I'm using for Geoffrey is of Pavel Novotny...

-------------

To my surprise, he gasped but did not cry out. He knew how to tolerate pain. My respect for him exploded. Even after he took several deep, slow breaths, then drifted into unconsciousness. He had lost more blood than I thought.

I tasted the bullet. That which covered it was rich and elegant and filled me with happiness and a near sense of peace. He was of my lineage. He could be another Blood Angel.

But first, he would need to heal in a place where he would be well-protected.

That, of course, is when Geoffrey appeared on the other side of him, sitting cross-legged, elbows on his knees, watching me with anticipation.

"So he is one like you," he said. "Or will be, soon."

"Not just yet..."

"Yes, he is very pale."

I could only smile.

He offered me a yarrow poultice, saying, "I made more." Then he just had to add, "And did it correctly. You use too much mud."

"It's warm."

"That is how it should be applied...not that it matters for the horse."

I pressed the poultice into Franz's wound, glancing between it and Geoff. "But how did you manage? You didn't build a fire."

"Just laid it between some leaves and let them burn away."

"You carry a flint?"

He pulled a small round canister from his coat pocket, unscrewed its lid and showed me... "Safety matches. Swedish, no less. My Frenchman was of a modern frame of mind. Far more modern than I thought he would be, considering his actions." I must have given him one of my wary looks, because he added, "He had captured a page from the German side, and was about to cut his throat."

"Which makes him a normal human beast."

"More normal than you think. Most of the lad's clothes were torn away, and my meal had his pants around his knees, with his dick hard as a rock and the knife at his victim's throat. I would say it was not a loving embrace, and assumed you would approve of my...oh, interference."

"I rarely question your feeding choices. Was the boy hurt?"

"I would say I stopped things just in the nick of time." Spoken with such exaggerated emotion, one arm raised to the skies, it was comical. I know I gave him a look of complete incredulity, then. He winked. "It's from a melodrama, I saw in Paris. The Perils of Sandrine...or something like that."

"Will you be joining the theater?" I asked, fighting a laugh.

"I've thought about it. Might be fun. It's all indoors, so I could even do matinees. What do you think?"

"I think you would be brilliant. And also become very well-known."

"Yes, there is that. Notoriety is the bane of any vampire's existence. And one can grow weary of French cuisine so quickly. For example, the meal we were discussing. While his clothing was well tailored, and he had boots as fine as mine, they did not fit him well...and he also had this..." He held up a leather purse filled with coins. "Pfennigs and francs. From the blood on some, I'd say they came off his fallen comrades. Looting the dead. Of course, that does suggest he's part of high society."

I rolled my eyes. "That sort of thing crosses all social strata."

"I'm joking. Unfortunately, he was not pleasant enough for fun, so I only fed, looted his body, and used the first match on him."

I knew Geoff was good about being discreet, but I still had to ask, "Did the boy see any of that?"

Now he rolled his eyes at me. "He scampered off, terrified, crying for help. Didn't even look back. Even if he had, all he'd have seen was someone in a German coat grabbing the fat bastard, whom I carried to the other side of the forest, to be sure. My guess is, he was a scout or spy, so no one will miss him, for a while."

I groaned, but not unhappily. "Must you always live so dangerously?"

"That's half the fun."

I smoothed more of the poultice over Franz's head, then I placed my hand on his heart and could feel the warmth of it. Feel the beating of it. And having my fingers resting against his skin brought to me all the fires of want and need I had ever felt. A gentle moan whispered from me.

"May I touch him, now?" Geoff asked.

I had to regroup my thoughts so held back from saying anything. Just took his right hand and placed it next to mine, on Franz's chest. Our fingers almost mingled.

He drew in a deep breath, then a truly wicked grin returned and he cast a glance at the lad's groin and said, "Be nice to see what we have to look forward to."

Again, the little bastard was reading my thoughts. But not so fast.

"I'll take him to our chateau," I said. "You bring his horse. Then you may help me bathe him. And prepare him for a nice warm bed. We will introduce him to the others, in a day or two."

"He does look weak. How long do you think it will take him to recuperate?"

"About seven, maybe eight days."

"Will he accept remaining with us, for that long?"

"I will see to it."

Geoff rose, smirking down at me. "And will we be allowed to have fun with him like we did you?"

That jolted me to my feet and I gripped his coat. "If any of you so much as touch him without my expressed authorization, I will cut you off."

He looked at me, uncertainty in his eyes. Wariness. Even a depth of confusion I'd never seen in him, before.

"So he is my replacement," he said.

I hesitated. Released him. "No, Geoff, no..."

He backed over to the horse, saying, "We'll see."

Third bit...

Continuing from the previous post...I'm up to 28 pages and 6000 words on this section, alone.

-----

I looked at my clothing. All well-tailored, of course, but I could be just out walking in the country. I put a finger to Geoff's lips and...

I was strolling up the road towards Franz. Calm and casual. Hands in pockets to show my contempt for convention.

He saw me, forced himself to straighten up, and drew his sword. And it was a beauty. Sharp and gleaming. Well-honed and touched with the blood of many Frenchmen, I was sure. He took a wary stance next to his horse, almost holding his breath.

I smiled at him and said, in a perfect Hamburg dialect, "Hello, what a lovely day it has been."

He gave me a vague shrug of confusion. "If you say. Are you German?"

I laughed. "What else could I be?"

"We are in France."

I shrugged. "What are boundaries, today? You've been badly hurt. Were you part of the fighting, a couple leagues over?"

"Are we that far from it?"

"Don't you know where you are?"

He grew weak, again, and leaned against his horse. "I...no, I do not."

"Your horse is also injured. There is a creek just the other side of this copse. Why don't we go there. Clean off the blood. See if I can find some yarrow."

"I...I must get back...to my regiment..."

"Night is falling. You will not get far. Come. Let's get you cleaned up, first. I am Leonides."

He almost smiled. "From the Greek. That is surprising."

"You know of the legend?"

"My teachers. Much...of Greek history. Roman. Russian."

"It was the same for me." Then I switched to Latin. "Do you know the classical tongues?"

He responded in Latin that was better than mine. "Of course I do. It is part of my education. I am Franz."

I switched back to German. "A pleasure to meet you. Now wouldn't fresh water make you feel better?"

"I...I suppose...but to leave the road...and the brush is very thick, so I didn't know if Greunnald would be able to make it."

"Is that the name of your horse?" He nodded. "You're a cuirassier, aren't you?"

He nodded. "The...the rest of my company is...is..." He pointed up the road.

I chuckled to myself. The battlefield was at least four leagues away. And his regiment...I did not want him to be part of them, any longer, because some had comported themselves in ways cruel, though not at all unusual. Women and girls raped. Villagers killed for daring to try and protect them. Stores of food looted. It was so typical of war, as I had seen, over and over. And this thought finally helped me realize my only hesitancy in dealing with him was wondering if he had joined in their festivities.

Then I heard a group of French chevaliers approaching, from behind us. If they saw him they would put him to the sword.

So I grinned and said, "Come. I know of a path to the brook, and yarrow will help both you and Greunnald to heal."

"You think so?" Concern for his horse overrode concern for himself.

Okay, without question I could not allow him to rejoin his compatriots. He was of too fine a character, and they would corrupt him into their evil. Probably. Because part of me thought he would never commit rape or murder, not because they were wrong to do, but only because it was ill-mannered.

"Come," I said. "Keep your sword out, if it makes you feel better. I'll lead."

Then I walked into the woods.

I caught a glimpse of Geoff across the way, watching, smirking at me. And rubbing his groin. I cast him a quick sneer.

Franz followed me, carefully. Not fast, for Greunnald was limping, badly. I quickly found the trail, and also had to admit the wood was thicker than I had expected. But that worked out well, for not two minutes later, he heard the soft clatter of horses galloping past on the road.

He hesitated, listening. We couldn't see them, but he could tell... "Five...no, six horse-men."

"Probably French."

"Did the battle go poorly, for us?"

"Considering you were outnumbered six to one, I would not say that."

"But you know the outcome?"

"The fighting has only ended. It's not over, yet."

He looked around, close to frantic. "I should be with the rest of my men!"

"Your men? That's not a commander's insignia on your jacket."

He nodded. "I brought friends...from home...men who worked our lands...I...I'm responsible for them..."

It took me a moment to speak, his face was so angelic in the soft light of dusk filtering between the thick trees. He was caught with worry and heartache. "I'm sure they're all right," I said.

In response, he gave me a weak shrug that all but screamed, Maybe. Maybe not.

So I had to ask, "Are your friends also of the aristocracy?"

He cast me a sharp glare. "What makes you think I'm high-born?"

"The way you speak, your education, and how you comport yourself. Tell me, haven't you read Cicero's De Re Publica? OR Ovid's Poetics? In Latin, of course. "

"Are...are you well-born?"

"Would I have been given access to such an education were I not?"

He huffed and held his sword tighter. "Who are you? What is going on here? Are you leading me into a trap? To hold me hostage, for ransom? My family will not pay."

"No, no, no," I said. "I do not know who you are. I am only offering help. Don't you hear the brook, now? Cold clear water beckons you. It will refresh you."

The splashing water was just audible, in the near distance and the shadows were growing deeper. Stars were hinting at an appearance, to the east. He nodded and forced himself to stay alert, keeping his sword at the ready as I led him on. The trees were even thicker, here, but then we came upon a clearing and there was the brook. It was a large one rushing down the side of a hill over a tumble of stones from a small pool to dance the rest of the way as if playing with the trees.

Franz smiled at seeing it. He managed to remove his boots...how, I have no idea...then he waded into the pool and led Greunnald behind him. The water came up to his hips, soaking his trousers. He slowly, painfully pulled off his shirt and I could see the entry of the bullet but no exit. It was still in him. That would need to be taken care of or it would fester.

He dipped into the water to let it ease the wound to his head, as well, then ignored his own injuries to wet the shirt and daub at the animal's wound.

Seeing water trail down his taut body through the waves of soft down over his chest kicked away the last of my hesitation. Geoff was right; I wanted him to join us. Wanted him to agree to join us. Gabrielle's mention of this being a necessity for a certain level of love to happen took a near obsessive hold of me. I wanted that certain level.

I found some yarrow at the edge of the clearing and worked the flowers into a bit of mud, to make a poultice, then he applied it to the horse's injury. Greunnald remained quiet and easy, throughout. Finally, he led it out of the pool and tethered him to a tree. He noticed the beast was now grazing, and that made him smile.

"Thank you," he said to me. "I think he will be well, now."

The way his trousers clung to his thighs and calves. And around his ass. And outlined the shape of his dick and balls. I found it difficult to concentrate on words, but I managed to say, "Your turn."

He collapsed to where he was cross-legged and slightly hunched over. "Are you a...you a surgeon?"

"I know enough medicine to help you."

"I'm so tired," he murmured, rocking back and forth in near delirium.

I didn't think. I quickly shifted him to an area of grass, next to the rushing brook, and lay him flat, his arms to his sides. His trousers clinging to his hips and thighs and calves, enhancing their well-shaped beauty. His skin still hinting at warmth and golden shades, despite the growing darkness. His chest so full and rich, with nipples in perfect harmony. His crotch looking even more inviting. I was almost frozen by the sudden pounding need within me.

I soaked his shirt in the clear clean water and caressed the wound in his shoulder, with it. Saw that the bullet had not gone too far in. I could almost see it. His breastplate must have slowed it.

"So weak," he whispered. "Is...a...a surgeon nearby?"

"I'll have to do," I said. "Lie still. This is going to hurt, but it needs to come out."

"What do you mean?"

I just smiled. Kept my right hand out of his eye-line and allowed my fingernails to expand, sharp and ready. I kept his shirt dripping wet, in my left hand, then using the excuse of cleaning his face I pressed against his chin to face him away from me, saying, "I think the injury to your head is not so bad."

Then I dug my fingernails into his shoulder and plucked the bullet out.

More of Leonides

Continuing from what I posted yesterday, as Leonides and Geoffrey consider what to do about Franz...

---------

"To replace me?" Geoff asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Never." And I put every ounce of truth I could into it.

A near coo came from behind Geoff's heart, filled with relief. "Oh...that would infuriate Gabrielle. But I still sense hesitation..."

"I know."

The thing is, I was not used to indecision. Eight-hundred years had shown me my gut instincts were right. Always. The only occasions where I had trouble were when I ignored them, and those few times had been within the first few years after my turning. Two of which had been caused by my sister's anger at me also being a Blood Angel. But I had learned quickly. Become certain and determined in my course. Brought together minions of my own. In fact, taking the first six from Prior Pious had been my first real joy in my new existence. And truth be told, I know they were much happier with me. I would never keep them tied to a boring monastery, pretending to be monks. I laid only two conditions down upon them -- feed only on the evil, not the innocent, and turn no one without my approval, which I never gave. I'd have chosen oblivion over that.

And almost did.

Twice.

But now? Now...after eight centuries...I was having my first doubt as to a course of action. My first want...no, need to turn someone to my world, to join with me in eternity, and it made me just a wee bit nervous.

"I...I want to know him, first," I said. "I want to know he is worthy."

"You already know."

"I want to be certain."

That made Geoff step away, turn me to him and cast his amazingly goofy Are you mad? expression on me. "And how do you propose to do that? He's a cavalryman in the middle of a war on a battlefield. Of course, he'll have done things he would be ashamed of. All soldiers do. So will you engage him in small talk to see if his atrocities are acceptable to you? Hi, Franz, good to make your acquaintance? Have you slaughtered anyone you shouldn't have?"

I had to chuckle. "I've thought of that. But he's alone, now. And vulnerable."

"And hurt and probably scared."

"As he cares for his horse instead of himself? On a road?"

Geoff leaned against me, looking at him. "I don't think he realizes how badly he's been wounded. He was unconscious..."

I cast him a sharp look. "You saw it happen?"

That was not acceptable. Geoffrey would have needed to be in the open, probably in the middle of the battle, exposing himself in ways unnecessary. No chaos was so complete as to hide a vampire feasting as others fought around him. It was amazingly stupid.

Geoffrey grew a bit sheepish. "I wore a coat...an officer's. It had his blood on it. And I had his hat...and I stood in the midst of a hundred dead men. I even helped a couple over to the next world. No one would have paid me any attention."

"But why risk it? Night will be here, soon..."

"I was...I was watching over him. Hid myself, this way, to keep anyone from noticing. Saw him coming, in another charge. Saw him struck in the shoulder and then the head. Knocked his helmet off. Knocked him out. The horse kept running...into the woods. Nearly fell off, more than once."

"Nearly fell off?"

Now Geoff grew awkward, which made me very uncomfortable. "I...did...sort of help him stay on, once or twice."

Oh, this was unacceptable. "In the middle of the day?!"

"In the midst of chaos."

"How long has he been in your sights?"

"From this morning, just before dawn. Brushing his horse." He finally looked me in the eye, then whispered, "I wanted more than nourishment from him. I'd have taken him, then, but others came up."

"That is how you learned his name." Geoff shrugged. "I've never heard you speak like this, of anyone."

"I've never wanted this, before."

I held him close. Touched my forehead to his. "Geoff, if my feeling is correct...if he is of my lineage...and I turn him...would your allegiance shift from me to him?"

"No, Leonides, I could never...never...no..." He seemed truly anguished that I would even think such a thing. "It's just that I saw something in him, like I saw in you. Our first day together. So I kept watching. He comported himself well, in the initial charge. Fear, but no hesitation. Relief that the French turned and ran. He killed some, yes, but that's what happens in a war. You slaughter men you won't know for people you won't know for reasons you won't know. I decided then that if...if he was wounded...mortally wounded...I would turn him."

I jolted back, shocked. "Without my permission?"

"You'd have understood. You...you already understand."

Whether I did or not was immaterial. Geoffrey's casual willingness to ignore my rules for a human lad shook me. As I said, I had but two of them, only they were there for a reason. Eight-hundred years together, with him always my support and protection, as I was his, and this was the first hint of mutiny. Of possible dissatisfaction.

My sister, Gabrielle, had a similar rule. In fact, it was her only one. Feed all you want, but turn no one to our side without my permission. And she was ruthless in her enforcement of it. Her minions were kept in line by fear. I thought mine respected me enough to do it out of loyalty. It appeared I might have been overly optimistic. 

I looked back at Franz. He was leaning against the horse, weak. Probably from loss of blood and pain. In fact, the wound in his shoulder was still seeping blood while the horse's was clean, and I got the sense the water skin was empty. He had cared for his animal before himself, as if it were his own child. Possibly to his own detriment, for if he did not see a surgeon soon, he would most likely die.

And that is when all doubt left me.

He was worthy, and Geoffrey had sensed it, too.

The decision had been made.

Polished up what I did, yesterday...

 And wrote a bit for the 4th part, set current day. But here's the first 5 pages of my work, yesterday. Can you guess when it's set?

-----

It was from the purest luck that I saw him before I sensed him. By the side of the road, caught in the shadows of evening, tending to his injured horse. His breastplate was on the ground. His cloak and uniform jacket were slung over his saddle, so all he wore was a well-fitted shirt over broad shoulders and trim torso, with tight gray pants showing off near-perfect legs and rear, held in place by a pair of braces that only added to his glamor. Boots crafted from the finest leather folded over at his knees to his feet.

And blood.

Dried down half his face.

Over his left shoulder...matting the shirt to him.

Powerful in its draw...in its promise...

Even though I was not yet hungry, I still felt the deep growling desire to taste of it. See if he might be someone to keep for a while...to enjoy myself with him.

But something deep within brought me hesitation. I had no idea what it was, so I remained hidden in the trees, watching him. No...no, gazing upon him in a way that was from far more than a need for nourishment.

His head was such a perfect shape. Hair tightly cropped and of a color that could be light brown or blond, in the sun. No beard hid the elegant line of his jaw or fit of his lips, and the simplicity of his nose and eyes more than complimented them. All of this truly pleased me in ways I had not felt in so many years.

Years? Hell, centuries, to be honest.

His jacket's off-color white, where there was no blood, revealed he was a Prussian Cuirassier, and the cut and quality of it emphasized he was of higher birth. As did his every move. Even wounded, as he was, he radiated breeding and ability.

That is when Geoffrey snuck up behind me and draped his arms over my shoulders settled his chin on them. He was still the only one I allowed to do that.

"He is almost as beautiful as I," he whispered in my ear.

I smiled. For Geoff to say that about anyone was all the proof I needed that my eyes were not deceiving me. Nor was my infatuation or...oh, let's just say it -- lust.

"His name is Franz Sebastian Giselher von Bergren," Geoff continued.

I am never surprised at how quickly he can gather information about anyone, anywhere, any time he chooses.

"Northern Germany," I murmured.

Geoff nodded. "They have a castle. Much land."

"And sent this lad off to die in war. Such a waste."

"I would have taken him, but I thought you should see him, first. So I found myself a Frenchman."

"Is he a gift?" I was only half-joking.

Geoff shrugged. "Offering, maybe? To my Blood Angel?"

I caressed his cheek with my ear, pleased beyond measure. And didn't the little bastard know it.

"What do the others think?" I asked.

"They're busy, and don't know of him. Yet. It all depends on if my offering is accepted."

"In what way?" I only asked to be polite. I knew what Geoff was suggesting...and he knew I would agree to it.

He wasn't fooled. "Oh, Leonides. Look at him."

As if I wasn't, still. The gentle way he checked his horse where the blood was greatest. The tenderness of his hands and care in his cool blue eyes. His lashes almost glinting in the last rays of the sun.

"He would bring our number to ten."

"So?"

"The more there are of us, the harder to control how others see us."

He nibbled my ear. "I have a plan for that."

I had to chuckle. "Don't you always?"

"Leon..." I softly growled at his shortening of my name. "You are smart, but I am brilliant."

I barely kept from bursting with laughter. "And arrogant."

"Of course." He held me closer. "I would love to have him as a brother...but it is you who decides."

As noted, I already had, but I chose to play with Geoff a bit longer. "I don't know. He's German and my lineage is Norman."

"You still feel akin to that?"

"Not so much."

"Well, keep in mind -- it was France who started this idiotic war. You would think after their debacle in Russia they would have learned better. But no."

"Men have no real interest in history."

"Outside of one's past capacity for profit."

Again, I had to fight a laugh. He was such fun to be around. And it was true, greed is probably the easiest emotion to manipulate and feed upon. I pulled his arms tighter around me and sighed.

"You have already decided to take him." Geoff was all but whispering into my ear.

"I...do...not...yet...know," I said, with more emphasis than necessary. "Both sides have committed such atrocities..."

Of course, he cut right through it. "You like how he cares for his horse, even though he, himself, is wounded."

It was true. Young Franz had found a wound to the animal's left shoulder and was using water from his skin to wash it. Looked like the jab from a lance, and the horse was favoring that leg. Any other man would have put a bullet in the poor beast's head then requisitioned another. But this lad loved his mount, wanted him to heal, which all but screamed to me of innocence and kindness.

"You really li-ike him." Mocking whispers. "You want to ta-ake him. You think he's per-rfect. Why do you hesitate?"

"I don't know...I don't know that he deserves it."

"Oh, Leon, please...none of your inner morality."

"He does remind me somewhat of myself."

"And you call me arrogant. Just tell me...would you make him one of us?"

"I don't know."

"Why not?"

I looked at Geoff, almost smirking. "You. There's something about him I find entrancing, this is true, but I fear you fear I would not like you anymore."

Geoff's arms shifted into an embrace, and his voice grew tender. Any time I let him know how important he was to me, he always seemed surprised, and his joy at the revelation would take him over...for a moment.

"So..." he finally said, "we do not feed upon him. And to be honest, I am glad." He let his nose drift across the nape of my neck and kissed my other ear. "But what more do your senses tell you about this entrancing possibility?"

I took in a deep breath, not really wanting to say it, but finally murmured, "He could be like me."

Now Geoff hesitated. "Of your bloodline?"

I didn't meant to say it but..."Possibly."

Good day...

I wrote over 3000 words on Leonides -- regarding him thinking about taking a young Prussian Cuirassier as his next meal. This is the image that inspired me.

It's set during the Franco-Prussian war of 1870-71, which France lost, badly. Which they deserved since they started it for stupid reasons. They were afraid of Germany's growing Federation and wanted to reassert dominance in Europe, as the counterpoint to England. Instead, Paris was sieged and finally had to surrender.

I'm using the Battle of Mars-Le-Tour as the backdrop. The Cuirassier's name is Franz Sebastian Giselher von Bergren. He's pretty and also wounded. He was clipped by bullets in the head and shoulder...but is more concerned about an injury to his horse than his own injuries. Leon wants to take care of him. He can control his hunger for blood, but it still calls to him.

The section I wrote today leads from the point Leon sees the young man to where they've gone to a brook and taken care of the horse, and now Franz is in shock and weak enough from his injuries to let Leon do anything he wants. Leon also senses he might be a distant relation -- another of the Blood Angel line -- something he's goaded about by Geoffrey, one of Prior Pious' monks who's become Leon's closest companion.

Of course, this will be in part two of the book, but I'm finding it's easier for me to work this story out by jumping around in it, as I write. I have ideas for part four, as well, which is set in modern times.

Sex and violence...the way of the world...